Chocolate
by quaint.camera
Summary: Sylar compares Mohinder to chocolate, and much to his delight and Mohinder's embarrassment, some silly sexytimes ensue... well, almost.  Just a little drabble I scribbled down one day.


_**A/N:**_ Yay, random drabble I found a few weeks ago and expanded upon today! First time writing for Mohinder/Sylar, even though I ship it SO HARD.

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><p>"Chocolate," Sylar whispered, in that husky way that sent a shiver down Mohinder's spine and made his stomach flutter uncomfortably.<p>

A laugh trilled out of him, unbidden. "Chocolate?" he ventured, his voice lilting upwards with confusion. "I... I don't understand..."

The other man chuckled before sitting down next to him on the small hotel-sized sofa. "I was talking about your complexion," he explained, feeling generous. "It reminds me of chocolate."

Mohinder winced. Such bluntness. Fingers stroked up his bare arm in a brief caress, such a contrast to the sharp force of before. "So soft..."

He tried not to tremble, but betraying goosebumps were rising on his arm.

"...Why are you still resisting me?" came Sylar's growl, near his ear.

He closed his eyes, feeling utterly defenseless. "Be-because…_You're a killer!_" he blurted.

"That again?" He chuckled but dryly, not sounding amused this time. Annoyance?

He bit his lip to keep from crying out as familiar teeth grazed against his earlobe. Next he felt something wet and quick flick against his arm. His eyes shot open to see Sylar's tongue sliding back into his mouth as he raised dark eyes and grinned that impossibly perfect grin that somehow managed to be both promising and menacing.

"You...you licked me!" He felt ridiculous saying it, but it was the truth.

"I did," he agreed happily, looking entirely pleased with himself.

"_Why?_" Mohinder demanded. His voice had climbed nearly to a squeak, but he wasn't backing down.

"I told you." Seeing that he didn't understand, Sylar groaned. "I just explained that you remind me of chocolate. I just wanted to taste you and see if it was true."

"Well, was it?" he said hotly. He was blushing now.

"I don't know. All I did was graze the surface. I need... a larger sample... Surely it can be arranged..."

Mohinder's alarm only grew at the smirk filling Sylar's face. "N-no. _Sylar..._"

But the man was already pinning both his arms at his sides and pressing him back and down deep into the cushions, and he grunted and tried to struggle away as Sylar's lips brushed his own. But oddly enough, once his tongue had found entrance, his resistance was at an end; his back arching, his mouth opening wide as Sylar explored him.

Those moans...were they his?

Sylar withdrew, opening his eyes and smiling wickedly at the unsteady, dark-haired Indian man who lay sprawled beneath him, staring back with dark, flustered eyes, panting. He wanted more, but he would restrain himself, at least for now... He was pleased to see Mohinder looked much more desperate than he did. He reached out and patted Mohinder's messy curls in something almost like pity before he stood up, straightening himself.

"I guess we'd better get going, then." A hint of tease returned to his eyes. "Perhaps later you can give me another sample, _professor._" Sylar smirked, turned, and sauntered off to the other side of the room.

Still shaking, Mohinder pushed himself upright and threaded a hand through his curls, breathing evenly in an attempt to recover his dignity. Sylar paused at the suitcase before bending over and allowing Mohinder what he was sure was a nice, planned view of his backside. He almost moaned aloud at the sudden pulse in his extremities.

_The tease_, Mohinder thought darkly. _I'll kill him._

Sylar chuckled quietly. "But you're not the killer, Mohinder. I am."

At first he wasn't sure he had really heard it. Then he jumped to his feet, suddenly enraged. "Who the hell did you kill to get telepathy! And why didn't you tell me!"

"Who'd I kill?" Sylar didn't even bother looking up, too absorbed in zipping the suitcase closed. "Mmm, doesn't matter." He shrugged, and strode across the room, wheeling the suitcase behind him. He paused at the doorway and turned back to Mohinder. "As for not telling you... I wanted it to be a surprise." He smiled slightly, and Mohinder couldn't even begin to formulate a reply. "Let's go."

As much as he hated it, his feet started to move of his own accord. It was a long time before Mohinder stopped cursing in his mind, and he secretly hoped Sylar could hear every single one of them. It wasn't until he nodded off that Sylar's eyes drifted off the road and slowly down his form, grinning from ear to ear.

_Oh, tonight is going to be SO good..._

There was absolutely nothing in the world better than having a pissed-off Mohinder in your bed.

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><p><em><strong>AN:**_ No, I am not going to explain why they are in a hotel. Just go with it, ok?


End file.
